James says he dreamed last night that he and I were visited three times in succession throughout a dream that was otherwise fairly mundane in nature by creatures that looked like human-sized barn owls. They had hands at the ends of their wings. Several groups of these creatures kept coming and going, and they'd split us up each time and then take us by the hands and telepathically transmit a series of images that generally seemed to be aimed at calming us on the subject of life, the universe, and everything. He of course couldn't speak for whatever messages dream-me was receiving from the owls, but the third and final time a group of them took him away, there was one taller faceless figure amongst them that, in addition to wearing a black cloak, had a face covered entirely in black linen bandages. The image it transmitted to him was a black-and-white animation that played in sped-up sequence through what appeared to be a stylized representation of the world with tiny dots of animals and people moving through it. When this was finished, they said, "Next time you see us, bring us juice. Your wife always brings us juice."
My relationship to the dreams of others has always been peculiar in that I appear in the dreams of other people often. I know this because, at least two or three times a month, I'll get an email or a text out of the blue from a friend or family member who says, "You were in my dream last night, and it was incredibly vivid. What was happening was . . . " It's been like this for a long time, since I was in junior high at least. It's been even more frequent in the past ten years or so. The week before my surgery, three different people who live far from me told me they thought they'd spotted me in a public place at some distance.
As you can tell, there's a reason I find this strangeness unsettling.